


Almost As Pale As Dave Strider Himself

by theknightofdoom



Series: DAVEKAT WEEK 2015 [4]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Basically, Davekat Week, Day 4, Drabble, M/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, dave is crying, davekat - Freeform, its short, karkat doesnt know what to do but tries anyway, pale rom, they cuddle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 18:15:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4715798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theknightofdoom/pseuds/theknightofdoom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave was crying.<br/>And I hate to admit it, but I was lost on what to do.<br/>---<br/>Just a little bit of hurt/comfort pale stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Almost As Pale As Dave Strider Himself

**Author's Note:**

> eehhhhhhh i started school again today so im not really up for writing loads butttttt
> 
> HERES SOME PALE DAVEKAT
> 
> also i dont normally write in 1st person so this was interesting to write i guess, if i accidentally slipped into second/third... oops?
> 
> and as pretty much always, im sorry for the gazillion typos
> 
> \---> EDITED? idk i have to check tenses/person but im too lazy for that rn. i just cleared some shit up as ive been doing to most of my fics

Dave was crying.

And as much as I hate to admit it, I was lost on what to do.

If he was a troll, I'd give him the reliable shoosh pap, however it was pretty fucking obvious Dave was anything but a troll. I had no idea how to comfort humans. But, the longer I sat on my couch wondering what the ever-loving fuck I was supposed to be doing, head kind of foggy from sleep, the longer Dave was stood at the arm of said couch crying. The more he cried the worse it got, too, and I was kind of worried he was going to somehow suffocate himself because his nose sounded pretty blocked up.

Taking the initiative, because I'm just brimming with knowledge and the smartest thing to do in the situation would be to get Dave to stop sobbing into his hands, I shuffled forward on my knees, putting a gentle hand on his arm.

"Dave...?" I eloquently ask, having such a way with words. 

He just starts crying even harder, which is even more worrying. Also a little offensive. I was trying to help, after all. Maybe humans didn't like being comforted situations like this, but I can't imagine Dave would come all the way to my room just to bawl in front of me.

Because I'm fucking unstoppable with a resolve of steel, I pat at his arm again, hoping he wouldn't do something like flip his almighty shit. Thankfully, he doesn't, just gasps pathetically for air in a way that kind of sounds like he's being strangled. 

"Dave," I try again, actually getting pretty fucking worried by now. "What's wrong?"

He opens his mouth to speak but just lets out a choked wail, oh god, I only made it worse. Fuck. Trying to compensate for my shitty attempt to pacify him, I take a firm grip of both his shoulders.

"Okay, Dave, you need to breathe," I said because he did, the sobbing giving him almost no time to take in a gasp of air before it got cut off into more wet cries. "Dave, breathe with me." 

Finally he looks up, his shades discarded and his face a mess of tears and fuck if he isn't pitiful right now. 

Dave tries to breathe in time with me. His chest rises and falls slower than before, although often he'd choke on the air and another weak cry escaped. Soon still his breathing regulates to something soft and gentle. Clear tears are still forming tracks down his face. 

Slowly, so that he could move away if he wanted to, I brush the away the dampness of his cheeks even as more tears form in his eyes ans give a sad smile. "...Do you want a hug?"

He nods, barely, and leans over the arm of the sofa to rest his head against my chest, arms wrapped around my mid-section as I give soft pats to his hair.

"You're okay, now, Dave. I'm here."

It's a pretty ridiculous position, and it seems his ass is stuck in the air from bending over the arm of the couch, so I try to make my voice lighter. "Maybe we should move, if you keeping sticking your glutes out like that your undying fans might be unable to control themselves."

He laughs weakly into my sweater, and I smile a little bit, for real. God damn, this kid.

"'specially 'cause it's packed in these hella red PJ's. TZ will be lickin' my plush rump," he mumbles, and the fact that he's joking means he has to be feeling better.

Steering him to lie down in front of me, I wrap my arms around his waist and maybe nestle my head into his shoulder just a little.

"This's fucked up, I'm menna be the big spoon," Dave complains, but it's quiet and un-argumentative. I reckon it's a pride thing.

"Shut up, I'm the big spoon here for certain," I grunt back, whacking Dave on the stomach.

"Okay, okay, daddy," he grumbles, almost under his breath.

I slap his stomach again. "Never, ever say that again."

He laughs a little more, and it's less sad sounding now. I only feel a little bad about the reasons behind feeling accomplished.

We both lie there for a while, and just as I'm about to sleep I have to whisper, "You know whenever you're ready we can talk about it, right?"

For a second, I thought maybe he was asleep, or just ignoring me outright, but he sighs a little and nods.

"I know. Thanks, bro."

"Anytime," I say in earnest, and pause before quietly adding, "Pale for you." 

He seems to think for a second, before nestling back into my arms a little more. "Pale for you too, man."


End file.
